


the way a knife loves a heart

by engmaresh



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Dai Li!Kuvira AU, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Rough Sex, Some Pain Play, some oedipal vibes and references, they love each other they're just dumb and evil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-14
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-10-28 12:19:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,844
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17787287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: Power play, stress relief, mind games; it doesn't matter the motivation as long as the sex is good. So what if they've started to care a little?Dai Li!Kuvira AU





	the way a knife loves a heart

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place within [this universe](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16940301/chapters/40020672), where Kuvira is a Dai Li agent, and Baatar is a mad scientist type. It's Mirrorverse/Darkest Timeline: everyone is evil.
> 
> Please note the tags yo.

_I love you the way a knife loves a heart, the way a bomb loves a crowd, the way your mother warned you about, essentially._   
_(The way a human loves another human.)  
_ [A Softer World](http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=709)

* * *

 

She comes to him still smelling of iron even after the bath. The blood of the seven men she’d executed for treason. “They’ve betrayed the crown,” Kuvira says, though there is no more crown. No more kingdom either, just chaos. For a creature wrought for order and obedience, she is remarkably well suited to it.

Chaos or order, Baatar doesn’t care. These are things beyond his interest, movements of people beneath his notice. Running after anyone who’d give them the barest fragment of false hope, like those seven traitors. They’re dead now, and masses will just find someone else to follow.

These fleeting thoughts don’t occupy him long, not with Kuvira in the room with him, her long hair still damp, the silk robe clinging to the bare body underneath. There’s a hungry look in her eyes as she stalks towards him, shedding the silk like a second skin.

“Clothes off, now,” she orders, and he hastens to follow, hands already working on the button knots of his shirt. He’d stopped wearing any kind of metal in his clothes because she’d always rip them off before he was ready. Besides, it amuses him to watch her fumble at the laces of his trousers, each brush of her hand stirring him to further hardness.

“Don’t you look so smug,” Kuvira grumbles, finally loosening his waistband. Her hand slips into his underclothes and closes around him just shy of too tight. Baatar gasps, and her eyes gleam. It’s ridiculous, how easily she leads him around by his cock—literally this time, as she pushes him none too gently onto his cot. He manages to shrug off his shirt before his back hits the rough canvas, winces when it rubs up against the scratches in his back.

Kuvira notices and smirks. Straddles and grinds down on top of him, because she knows how the wet slide of her lips drives him crazy. He pushes himself up, runs his hands up her pale thighs, trying to pin her in place. When that fails, he slips one of them between her legs, pushing into her warm, wet heat. She throbs around his fingers as he grinds the heel of his hand against her clit. Too fast? No, this is how she likes it. The sting moves up his back and into his scalp as she fists her hands in his hair. Tugs him close, bites their lips together. He pulls her bottom lip between his teeth until it splits. Now she tastes of iron too.

Baatar curls his fingers in her, dragging her forward and down until he can sink his cock into her alongside them. Her nails trail a long line of fire down his back as she clenches around the double intrusion. Her breath hitches, a small high catch at the back of her throat.

“Too much?” he whispers. It’s neither concern nor a taunt, he just wants to know.

“Fuck you,” she hisses and clenches around him deliberately; he has to remove his fingers now for his own sake if not for hers. He tries to slide them in her mouth but her lips press together tight. When he smears them down her cheek she snaps at them, biting at air.

“You’re making this difficult.”

“Fuck me then.”

Fine. The camp bed creaks as he grabs her by the shoulders and flips them around; it’s been bolted to the floor for this very reason. Kuvira’s hair fans out over his thin pillow. Bunching it in his hand makes it easier for him to pull her head back, baring her throat to his teeth.

Her heels thump hard into his back. Thighs like a vice around his hips, trapping him in place. Only when he drags his teeth across her jugular does she relax her grip, enough for him to start thrusting.

They’ve done this often enough that they’ve found a rhythm, often enough that she knows just how to deny it to him too. He thrusts, her hips meet his just a little out of sync, she smirks at him, eyes glinting from under her lashes.

 _Fine_. He doesn’t miss the groan that escapes her when he grabs her hips hard enough she’ll bruise. Overnight, blue will fill in the empty spaces between her scars. Meanwhile she fists one hand in his hair so she can smash their lips together. That’s how she comes when he presses his thumb to her again, panting angrily against his mouth like she’s fighting instead of fucking. Maybe it’s all the same to her.

And maybe for Baatar, it is too, because it’s Kuvira’s glare that undoes him, the one that promises a knife to his kidneys if he doesn’t finish up quickly. He buries his face in her hair, and she deigns to give him several seconds of recovery before she kicks him off her. She recovers quickly, he doesn’t; that gives her the prerogative to choose how exact she want to cuddle.

Today, it seems, she wants to have him under her, and she spreads herself over him like a firm, well-muscled blanket. Her head rests on his chest. This leaves her heart beating against his stomach, out of time with his.

Baatar strokes her hair as he gazes absently up at the rocky ceiling. This is nice, and he could do with more of it, but he doesn’t think they’ll have much opportunity for it soon. Plans to set into motion. Kuvira hadn’t known about the men today, and he’s still not sure if it’s a good thing or a bad thing.

He’s being too quiet. Kuvira turns her attention away from the swirls she’s been tracing across his chest, props herself up on her elbow, right on his sternum where she knows it’ll hurt. Demanding attention she already has. “What are you thinking of?”

Baatar hesitates, then says, “My mother.”

“Ohh...your mother,” she echoes. A corner of her mouth curls, sly, speculative as she sits up. “What of your mother?” Her hand trails down his chest, between his legs. She takes his softened cock in her hand. Much to his annoyance, he starts to respond.

Baatar closes his eyes. Lines up the words in his head. Tries to _not_ think of his mother despite the provocation. “She’s found us.”

“Oh.” Her hand stills momentarily. “And you know that how?”

“Two of the men you executed.”

Kuvira sits back, looking thoughtful, her hand still moving between them. Her inner thighs gleam from their mingled fluids, and he absently slides two fingers back into her. She twitches, but goes on. “They carried no official Beifong seal. Or any other sign your mother sent them.”

“I know her. They were her people—” He almost chokes on his tongue at the last word when she runs the pad of her thumb over his head.

That gets her three fingers, once he’s recovered. She shifts in his lap, thighs splayed, expression unchanged thought he can feel her clenching spasmodically around him. “She’s really keen on getting you back.”

“It’s not me personally,” mutters Baatar. “She just doesn’t like it when her things leave her control.”

“When other people touch her things.” To emphasise this point, she drags a nail down the sensitive skin behind his balls.

“Oh— _fuck_.”

Kuvira humms, smiling contentedly. “You’re mine,” she murmurs, “say it to me, Beifong.” When she says it, that name belongs to him and only him.

“You’re mine,” he repeats.

She huffs and rolls her eyes. Grinds down on his fingers. He takes that as his cue to participate a little more, and starts to circle her clit with his thumb. She humms again, a little deeper. Her hand picks up its pace.

“You think you’re so smart.”

He grunts. “I do.”

“You think I’ll always find you useful.”

“You—hnnh, you do.” Words are hard now. His fingers are beginning to cramp.

Kuvira finally takes pity on him, pulling herself off his fingers to replace them with his cock. She starts rocking slowly, looking speculatively down at him.

“What if I just keep you for this?”

Baatar smiles at the slip. “Oh, so you do want to keep me.”

She flushes, looks away. It makes her look pretty, almost. The sudden softness that creeps to her eyes.

“No,” she snaps, turning back, and it’s gone just as quickly as it came. He never expected it to last.

Better not to tease her any further. Her nails are already leaving little crescent marks in his chest, and really, right now, all he wants is to have her close. So he runs his hands over her ribs where he knows she’s ticklish and when she squirms, pulls her down onto him. Her hair falls over his eyes like a dark blindfold; she tucks her face against his neck. Her breathing surrounds him, her heart beats a tattoo against his own. Maybe they sync for a second, maybe he imagines it.

When he comes first, she nips his ear in punishment. It means sliding to his knees on the cold stone floor to lift one of her legs over his shoulder. It means the slight unpleasantness of having to taste himself on her. But she’s got him shamelessly well trained in this regard, and he licks into her gamely enough until she comes with her toes curled into his shoulder and her hand scrabbling in his hair.

“Ugh, look at you,” she says, when he crawls back up onto the camp bed. “Disgusting.”

Baatar’s response is to rub his face over her breasts as she swears, trying to push him away.

“I should chop your cock off,” Kuvira mutters later, “send it to your mother to keep her company.”

“Shut up about my mother.”

She’s finally arranged him to her satisfaction, lined up against her back. This is a bad idea, they’re going to end up glued together like this and morning will be hell. And yet he stays. She doesn’t seem to notice when he puts an arm around her.

“What should we do about her?”

“What?”

Kuvira turns in his embrace. “If she’s spying on us. We need to do something.”

“Ugh,” Baatar presses his face into the pillow. “Can we not talk about this right now?”

Her lips thin in displeasure, until he presses his own to them. That makes them twitch into the barest smile, before she pulls back and sighs deeply. “Fine.” She rolls off the bed, grabs her robe off the floor. Stabs a finger in his direction like he’s being the unreasonable one. “Tomorrow. We will discuss this.”

“Yes, yes.” Baatar follows her up. Might as well clean up if Kuvira’s not staying. And it’ll give him time to think. He’s been prepared to deal with his mother for a while now, and if Kuvira gets involved, things are bound to get interesting.

**Author's Note:**

> Don't be like them, wear protection. Evil is not an adequate contraceptive.


End file.
